Psyche's Flight
by ArcanaPi
Summary: This is the story of a young runaway orphan from her mage school. She goes to Corus in search of a job as a Rogue. She's been deeply hurt, and the story hasn't even begun! ... please Read and Review!
1. Prologue

Psyche's Flight  
  
~ Prologue  
  
It was almost nightfall when I arrived in Corus, Tortall. I had been traveling for several weeks to get here, by foot and alone. It was worth it though, as I stared with awe at the village square on market day. Vendors and shops lay everywhere, rich with the smells of pastries and smoke. I inhaled the delicious scents and stood there dumbfounded on the cobblestone courtyard. It was the first time I had ever seen a town as big as this one. I tried to find the inn of Corus where the secret service of the Queen's Rogues met. Finally, I would have my chance to prove my worth. Even if it meant running away from my sheltered life to start earning my living, I was still looking forward to it. After all, it was a silent foot and a good Gift that helped me escape and kept me alive.  
  
How did I get here? I was a lonely and unprotected fourteen-year-old wandering among city streets I did not know. Let me explain my story.   
  
***  
  
I was born in Damryn, a remote and distant town in Tortall. My father was a courtier of lonely fief Damryn, and had been since his youth. None of the titles were of any importance, for Damryn was so remote that I am sure the King would have forgotten about its existence.  
  
In my youth, my Ma mainly raised me in our small estate near fief Damryn. Ma was the village healer, a hedgewitch if you must call her. Whenever anyone fell ill, Ma was there with her vast knowledge of herbs and medicine, ready to help. She always brought me along to assist her in a childbirth, or to fetch odds and ends for her. Ma taught me the uses, magical and medicinal, of every plant in her garden. I learned them eagerly for I had a strong urge to heal. My Ma sensed this too, and when the King's mages came to our village to test people for the Gift, she was eager to have me tested. After some probing with their magic, I turned out to have a limited Gift. The mages told Ma that my Gift could be strong, if it was trained properly. So my Ma, who was Giftless and could have helped many more people if she was Gifted, did not hesitate to bless me with a privilege she never had. Determined to shape me into a master healer, my parents agreed to send my to a mage school in Damryn. I could not bear to part with Ma and Da, but I knew Ma wanted me to be a mage more than anything. I left her and Da at nine years old.  
  
My first three years at the Mage School in Damryn were happy ones, I suppose. Work was difficult but I concentrated hard, wanting to make Ma and Da proud. I discovered that I could not do the usual Gift-like things, like casting simple charms and scrying into a mirror or glass. Fortunately, I was still able to start small fires, a skill even Gifted children could master. My teachers said I could mend muscle, bone, and tendons surprisingly fast, and my cooling spell worked wonders on injuries. I had a healing Gift, simple as that. I worked on developing it intently for three years. All my teachers were good mages, and they taught me well...up to my parents' death.   
  
  
I was thirteen when my favorite teacher, Master Connall, came to my bedchamber to tell me the news...  
  
"Psyche? Could I have a word?" He opened my door and stood inside the frame. I noticed that his knuckles were white and his face was dewed with sweat. He beckoned to me.  
  
"Yes, Master Connall, right away," I curtsied and stepped out to meet him, shutting the door behind me. I gazed with concern up at his face. "Are you all right, Sir? You look nervous. Would you like some water?"  
  
"No, Psyche. You should be the one nervous," he said, avoiding my blue-violet gaze. "I have been informed by post that your parents-" he took a deep breath, "-have died." He anxiously waited for my reaction.  
  
Tears stung my eyes; I quickly brushed them away. "Sir, you mustn't be speaking the truth. Ma sent me herbs by post only last week!" He nodded slowly. "But how?" I asked.  
He lowered his voice. "That is the odd part. No one seems to know how or why they died. Someone found them in their home, with not one trace-"  
  
"Please, Master Connall...that's enough. Now if you'll excuse me-" I curtsied and rushed for my door. I did not want him to see me sob.   
  
He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Listen, Psyche. What you need is a protector, a guardian. I can help..."  
  
I turned around to look at him curiously. "That's very kind, Sir, but I can fend for myself. After all, this mage school is not dangerous."  
  
"No, Psyche," he spoke nervously, "you don't understand. You must leave this school. I will help you. You will need a protector when you leave. Marry me, Psyche, and then shall you never be alone. "  
  
"What? Marriage?!" My manners completely disappeared. Angrily I said, "Certainly not, Master Connall. And I will have you know that I intend not to leave the mage school until my education is complete. My Ma wanted me to be a healer, so I shall do so. You are a wonderful mage and very kind, but marriage to an old teacher is-unheard of!"  
  
For a second Master Connall just stood there, bewildered and sputtering. "You will see what a wrong choice you have made, Psyche Damryne! Not only did you have the nerve of rejecting a teacher, I see to it that your-dream-of being a Mage will never come true. So...are we in an agreement?"  
  
Appalled at his sudden change in behavior, I hurried into my room, shutting the door firmly. I leaned with my back blocking it, panting and breathless with disgust.   
  
"Mithros curse you, ungrateful girl!" I heard him spit scornfully behind the door. I waited until his footsteps disappeared down the hall before I allowed myself to collapse in tears.  
  
  
After the incident, life at school was nothing but torture. The next day, when I walked into my first class, most of my classmates looked at me awkwardly. I must have been quite a sight with swollen, red eyes. Some had even learnt of the argument between Master Connall and I, and snickered. My friend Darsteen begged me to reconsider Master Connall's offer. When she found that it was impossible, she deserted me. What a friend she was! The mages, too, were cold and treated me as if I was a disease. Master Connall's best friend, the teacher of my favorite class, herb studies, tried to slip a powerful mixture in my drink to make me fall for Master Connall. Even worse, the Master Mages could not expel me, for I had nowhere to go and no relations. I was now a ward of the Mage School. It was Master Connall's curse.  
  
It was too much-they did not want to teach me, nor did I want to learn from them. I often slipped away from the grounds to explore and learn my own healing magic. They did not seem to care. I also spied on my teachers. I pretended to do simple things when they were around, and eavesdropped. I knew their lives-it gave me great satisfaction for they liked controlling mine. This became a routine for me, and soon I tried to get away for an entire day, but as my fourteenth birthday drew nearer, they became stricter. I knew that Master Connall had been partially right-I had to leave.   
  
It was harder than I thought. They did not want me to teach me, but neither did they want me to go. I was their prisoner, but not for long. Secretly I packed some of my dresses and shoes in a sack. I brought my only treasure: Ma's herb and oils pouch. I sneaked away just after nightfall on Beltane. With my other gift, a quick and silent foot, I was so quiet that no one had noticed I was gone.   
  
  
I had decided to go to Corus to make my own living. I thought myself able to do a hedgewitch's job or even work as a spy. My healing Gift could prove very useful for the Queen's Rogues, the secret group of thieves, spies, and cutthroats of Corus. It was the life for me. I craved adventure and freedom, so I decided that I wanted a job as a healer-spy for the Rogues.  
  
For about two weeks, I traveled on foot, healing my cuts and injuries on the way. I slept in soft heather, and made fires with my Gift. I found plants and herbs to eat, since I did not know how to hunt or use weapons. I was sure to stay away from large towns. However, once I neared Tortall, I stopped in at a gracious villager's cottage so I could be cleaned up for my appearance in the capital of Tortall. Now here I am, a stranger in my paradise.  
  
  



	2. Strange New World

~ Chapter 1  
  
"Girl. Miss!" A male voice interrupted my thoughts. To my dismay, it was already dark and the vendors had long gone home. I looked up and saw a tall man, thin yet strong. He looked almost like Master Connall. A sudden wave of panic struck, and I was unable to speak. "Well?" he continued, "what are you doing out here in the middle of the night, child? The excitement's over! Go on to bed."  
  
When he saw that I was carrying a pack, and wearing travelling clothes, he peered his eyes down at me. "You're not running away, are you? Best not to go when it's dark. Get back to bed and try again tomorrow, child."  
  
I ignored his question as politely as I could. I curtsied and said, "Pardon me, Sir, but I was looking for the inn. The..." I fumbled, suddenly realizing that there must be ten different inns in Corus, and I did not know their names.   
  
"So...we've a scapegoat." The man sighed and looked around. Then he looked me in the eye, "Well, well, well. I can't make you go back to your folks, but I can find you a place to stay. Corus at nighttime is a dangerous place to wander around. There's all sorts of thieves hanging around. Come with me."   
  
I hesitated. I knew it was against all my common sense to follow this stranger. Where would he take me? Who was he?   
  
I curtsied. "Yes, Sir."  
  
  
As we walked along the main street of Corus, he told me about himself.   
  
"I am a merchant," he said. "Today, as you saw, was market day. I come here mainly to sell weaponry. Knives, swords, spears, glaives, you name it. I wield them myself and trade them on days like this. Today I had a special delivery to make-that's why I'm around so late." He looked at me and said, "You must be hungry, child. There's a bakery right over there that is open late." He reached inside his cloak. "Here are some coins. Go buy yourself a loaf. Here, let me hold your bag. You must be tired of this."  
  
Again, I hesitated. Accept money from a stranger? However, he seemed trustworthy and I was hungry. Plus, what had I to lose? It was night, and I had nowhere to go. My mind set, I handed my heavy travelling bag to him. Relieved for a while of such a heavy load, I started towards the baker's.  
  
However, the moment I had the money in my hand, I sensed something was wrong. Maybe my Gift was intuitive, or maybe the reason was that my money felt different. I looked at the stuff in my hand closely.   
  
Three flat pebbles.   
  
I turned around to look at the merchant. He was already yards away, clutching my bag and running like the wind.  
  
My heart jumped in my mouth. I thought fast. I was an excellent runner, but my specialty was more agility than speed. It was too dark-there was no way I could catch him. A magical fire would require too much concentration. Think, Psyche! He is escaping with your Ma's herbs!  
  
That got me going. Wasting no time, I took the pebbles and aimed for the sound of shoes hitting the cobblestone. I launched the pebble with a powerful throw. Then I aimed again with the second pebble-then the third.  
  
I listened hard with my ears for a fall. I did not find one. Not wanting to take a chance, I concentrated hard to light a fire with my Gift. It was blue-violet, the color of my eyes. Fire in hand, I ran to the spot where I aimed. It turned out to be farther than I expected. In the distance, I saw a form on the ground. I ran over to the "merchant" and bent over him. In the bluish light, his face was distorted in pain, and he clutched at his arm. Taking a closer look at him, I found that he was much younger than he had acted.  
  
There was no way he could go anywhere. Two of the pebbles had knocked deep purple bruises in his leg. The other punctured his arm. Shocked at my aim, I had to resist all temptations to heal them. After all, after this incident, I had to think three times over before deciding to trust a stranger again.  
  
The thief looked at me with a mixture of surprise and pain in his eyes. He murmured, "You're good. How'd you aim like that in the dark? ...Oh gods!" he winced and held his arm towards me. "You don't have a job 'ere, do you? 'Cause you'd make a great Rogue..."  
  
The word "Rogue" suddenly caught my attention. I whispered, "Did you say Rogue? Because that is why I'm here... I ran away from my school to find a job..." I quickly shut my mouth, realizing that I had said too much.  
  
The thief motioned at my fire, which was quickly dying out. "I see you've got a Gift there, too. You don't happen to heal, do you? Fix my leg and I'll get you to the Dancing Dove and introduce you to the Rogues."  
  
"That's a lot to ask from you, thief, who just stole my bags!" I muttered back.  
  
"Please... At least let me give you a place to stay." He took a deep breath and went on, "I swear by the Mother Goddess that I'm telling the truth. You looked small and vulnerable over there, and that's why I tricked you. But I guess I underestimated. My name's Roznin Leaver. I'm 19 years. I work for the King of the Thieves-it's my job. Now, your bag is over there. You can take it and find your way for shelter. On the other hand, you can let me show you the Dancing Dove, and you can stay there for the night. That's the inn where the Rogues meet... Look, I've said too much already. Your light's dying, so decide what you want."  
  
"Roznin," I rolled the word on my tongue, trying it out. "You have sworn to the Goddess, and I pray that you are devout. However, I can't work healing magic now; I'm too tired. But I can do a cooling spell that'll reduce the swelling, and I'll get you a poultice for your arm." I rushed to my bag for Ma's-my-herb pouch. With practiced skill, I wrapped a selection of herbs in gauze and wet it with water from my jug. I thought silently that this would be my very first patient without Ma nearby. And for a thief! How well my first night at Corus was shaping out.   
  
I hurried over to Roznin and sat down beside him. His body trembled from the chilly night breeze. I gave him a reassuring smile and put the poultice on his arm. "Hold this in place," I told him, "and try to relax. It won't hurt, but don't try to resist my magic, okay?"  
  
"Yes, Mage," Roznin joked.   
  
"Hardly," I grumbled.  
  
Taking deep breaths from my stomach like my teachers had taught me, I focused inside myself for my magic. There was a pool of my Gift deep inside me. Right now it was a tiny spot, just enough for my cooling spell. Concentrating, I placed both my hands on his left leg with the two ugly bruises that were now the size of eggs. Good, I thought, that would teach him a lesson. I drew my magic out in two threads that flowed through each middle finger. I saw the bruises in my mind, and placed the spots of blue-violet on each bruise. I willed them to reduce the swelling, and slowly, the bruises began to shrink. Outside my mind, my body heard Roznin sigh with relief. Slowly, I withdrew from my meditation and returned to my body.  
  
I sat quietly for a while before I tried to stand. However, exhaustion and stress put me asleep in a blink, so deeply that I did not notice Roznin pick me up and drag me away.  
  



	3. Roznin's Gift

~ Chapter 3  
  
I woke to the sun shining in my eyes. I was amazed to find myself on a comfortable bed in a small room. Beside my bed was my travelling bag. Across from the door were a small washbasin and a pitcher of water. I left my bed and noticed that I was still wearing yesterday's dress, torn and dirty. A flood of memories rushed to my brain. Excited, I knew that at least Roznin had fulfilled part of his promise-he had found me a place for the night.   
  
Roznin-where was he? If this was the Dancing Dove, this should be his home, too. I went to the washbasin and peeled off my old dress. Standing in my underwear, I rinsed myself with the biting cold water. Teeth chattering, I grabbed a gown from my bag. It was like all my others-brown and torn. Loudly I cursed my luck and promised myself I would give up the cumbersome dresses once and for all.  
  
As luck would have it, someone had placed a clean shirt and breeches on a stool at the foot of my bed. The shirt was a gorgeous blue, and picked out the color in my eyes. I put them on and slipped on my boots. Then, I combed out my wet black hair and clipped it back into a ponytail. I stuck my head out of the window and breathed in the early summer's air. The sky was dotted with dollops of clouds. The window on the second floor faced onto the main road. I recognized the red cobblestones and even the baker's shop where I was nearly tricked.  
  
Food. The rush of hunger suddenly overtook my brain so that I could not think of anything else. I had not eaten for a day, and now I was ravenous.   
  
I glanced at the door. What would I find when I opened it? Who would be down there? Commoners? Nobles? Rogues? They would wonder what I was doing there... And would I see Roznin?  
  
Psyche, get a grip! I told myself. I tugged at my shirt and turned the brass knob open. Immediately in front of me was a dim hallway with many doors. A wooden staircase went down at the end of the hall. Timidly, I made my way down the stairs, led by my hunger.  
  
The main room was a large dining and leisure hall, with tables and chairs in the center, and sofas at the back of the room. A doorway led into a room which I assumed was the kitchen. All was empty and silent, save for a feast on one of the tables. Covered by a gauzy film, there was a plate of old cheese, bread, and cold meats. A pitcher of cold cider stood next to it. I dug into the platter of food with no second thoughts.  
  
After I finished gorging myself in the plain yet delicious food and drink, I carried the plate and the pitcher into the kitchen to wash. It was a medium sized room with a door leading out back. The sink at the far end was filled to the brim with dirty pots, pans, and plates. Leftovers and trash lay on the counters. Does no one clean up around this place? I thought with faint disgust. Well, there was only one thing I could do. Rolling up the sleeves of my new shirt, I began to sift through the mountain of dining ware.   
  
It took me a while to clean the whole mess. After about one hour was I finally finished. The kitchen shone. I glanced around it once, examining my work. Satisfied, I left the inn by the kitchen door. I was immediately met with a dirt path surrounded by a vegetable garden. Delightedly I smelled the fresh herbs. I would have to help care for them one day, I thought.   
  
The garden soon gave to a large grassy field. On the edge of the field stood a ramshackle building, presumably the stables. Other incongruous shacks lay around, looking purposeless. I spotted one to the side, surrounded by gravel, not grass. Curious, I jogged over to the little stone hut.  
  
It did not have a door. I walked in freely, taking in the sights. From floor to ceiling of the room stood rich oak shelves, full of every weapon imaginable. I recognized different maces, swords, and even wooden clubs. They were all created down to the finest detail and quality. On a wall hung plain metal and wooden shields. I had never seen that many weapons in my life. But then, I had led a very sheltered life.  
  
A doorway stood to my right. Going inside, I found that it was the workshop. Crouched on a stool by the single window was Roznin, focusing intently on something. The look of concentration on his face was so unexpected I stifled a laugh. Still, he did not notice my entrance. Quietly, I walked over to him to look at his work. He was stitching pieces of fine leather together. His curly brown hair was frosted with dust, and the sight of his callused hands deftly wielding a needle was an amazing sight.   
  
"What's that?" I asked. He jumped up in surprise and let go of the leather. I glanced at it and knew instantly that it was the sheath for a knife.   
  
"Hullo! I didn't think you would find me. That?" He glanced at the floor, embarrassed. "It's a sheath I'm making for you to match your dagger. ...It was supposed to be a surprise."  
  
"My dagger?"  
  
"And I'm mighty proud of it, too," Roznin said. He walked over to the cupboard and drew out something shiny. This he handed to me. It was a small dagger with a double-edged blade. I pressed a finger against it and drew droplets of blood. I whistled, obviously impressed. The dagger hilt was soft black leather. Studded into the hilt was a good-sized sapphire of the deepest blue. The pommel was rounded and molded perfectly into my palm. I felt like I had owned it for years, yet I had never held a weapon in my life.   
  
"This is beautiful! How did you learn to make this? It's perfect. Thank you, Roznin."  
  
"Well, when I told you at the market I sold weaponry, I wasn't lying." He smiled. "It's perfect, you say? Don't be so sure. Wait 'till you survive your first lesson from me," he said with a grin. He paused, then asked awkwardly, "What exactly is your name? I've never had a chance to ask..."  
  
"Psyche. Psyche Damryne. And did you mention lessons? This is turning out better than I thought!" I beamed and hugged Roznin, dagger and all.  
  
"Hey there!" he warned and dodged swiftly. "That thing is sharp. The last thing I want is for you to start stabbin' folks before you know how," he joked.  
  
I jerked back, appalled at his comment. "Is that really what the Rogue life is like? Slitting throats and talking about it afterwards like it's no big deal? I thought the Rogue life would be of freedom and action, not this..."  
  
"Action, oh there's plenty of that!" he said bitterly. He sighed, "But the rest you've got wrong, Psyche. The life of a Rogue is hard. You have to kill, steal, and spy on command, or be killed. The first time you steal, or slay, your conscience almost kills you with guilt. You knew what was right, what was wrong. But soon you'll have to do it again, and again, and again. We never get used to it, but we've learnt not to let our feelings interfere with our work. There's no time to think about the person we've just hurt. Our Duty overrides all else. Such is the way of the Rogue."  
  
After his monologue, we were both silent for a long time. After I thought about what Roznin said, I thought about the life I left behind at the Mage School.   
  
Stubbornly I said, "I am desperate enough for the life of a Rogue. You've probably figured that I was a runaway..." I told him my story of how and why I came to Corus, and about my Ma and Pa's death. Roznin was quiet for a while. Then he asked, "How did your parents die?"  
  
I could feel the tears burning already. "Nobody knows...I don't want to talk about it."  
  
He looked thoughtful. "Maybe you should find out."  
  
Again, we were both still, lost in our thoughts. Then it was my turn to ask about him. "And you, Roznin?" I asked quietly, "why did you become a thief?"  
  
His brown eyes sparkled. "...So I can teach the art of knife-throwing to a fourteen-year-old kid like you!" He playfully patted my head and picked the sheath up from the floor, which he handed to me. "Seriously, Psyche. The Rogues are one of the best bunch people you'll ever meet. The things we've all been through brings us together. We're like a family. You'll see!" He headed for the door and motioned me to follow him. "Come, we've things to do!"   
  
I carefully sheathed my dagger and attached it to my belt. Together, Roznin and I left the weapons room.  
  
  



End file.
